Iii

The loving earth that roots the trees So closely to her inmost heart, Has rooted us as well as these, Not long from her we live apart; We draw upon a lengthening string, For months perhaps, perhaps for years, And plume ourselves that we are free, And then--we hear a robin sing Where starving grass shows stunted spears, Or haycart moving fragrantly Where creaking tavern sign-boards swing; Then closer, tighter draws the chain, The man, too old and worn for tears, Goes back to be a child again.